Tony Hogan Bought Me an Ice-Cream Float Before He Stole My Ma (23 page)

I only meant to go for an afternoon sleep, like Ma did. The day after the hospital I went to lie upstairs in Ma's pink fleecy dressing gown with that plastic doll tucked in the space between my legs and empty belly. I didn't think I'd bleed for a long time or feel that trick of feeling hollow but I did. In the end I stopped trying to fill it up with piles of toast and cans of rice pudding and cradled the emptiness.

I slept. Sleeps like army blankets; dark, heavy and itchy, that I woke from dazed and numb until I felt the empty space inside, and then I popped the doll's head off, counted the notes and promised myself, tomorrow, I'd get myself back to the land of the living.

I stayed in bed for over three months. I got up once a day, when I heard the door shut. I ate whatever was in the oven covered with a plate, and went upstairs with one of the books that Ma left on the table and read until the words blurred off the page.

Ma tried to talk me out. ‘We've all got our problems, Janie. But we've not the luxury of wallowing. That's what yer doing while I'm trying tae manage.'

Then drag me out. ‘Now get up an' stop leeching off this family. Get up! I'll have yeh fuckin' sectioned! Is that what yeh'd like? Electric shock therapy? Pumped full of pills?' She screamed, ranted and went round the room stuffing things into bin liners and I watched and waited until she exhausted herself, and went off for a cry and a long sleep herself.

‘Please, Janie.' She was on the edge of the bed. ‘I can't cope. I need yeh tae be strong fer me. Think about Tiny. What's it doing tae her tae see her big sister like this?'

But Tiny was fine. We argued less. She would sometimes come in after school, sit behind me on the pillow, French-plait my hair and tell me about
Neighbours
. When I couldn't sit up, when I felt like my tongue was an animal that had crawled into my mouth to die, then she'd just come and sit, turn the pages of my books and try to read the words or rock the doll in her arms.

Solid little Tiny, Tiffany now, who learned not to expect too much back for everything she gave. Tiny, with her wide face, sturdy runner's legs and quick, hair-plaiting fingers, that's what got me out of bed. Plus I owed something now, I had a debt and the first instalment was just me getting up.

So it was Tiny that got me to shower, put on some clothes and get out of the house and up to the shopping centre, head down and shaking the whole way, to buy a little toy pram. Tiny got me to sit and eat Victoria sponge and slices of block ice cream with the pink candle still sticking out of it. Because even if she didn't expect it, didn't ask for me to be good to her, it didn't mean she didn't deserve it.

At four and a half months empty, when I would have been six and a half with a swollen belly, I kept the curtains open and let the evening spill onto the pages of my book and the words stopped sliding off the bottom. I felt the bubbles in my blood and the walls didn't seemed so closed in. I took the notes from the doll's head and gave the empty doll to Tiny to push around in her little pram.

‘Be careful an' don't leave it too close tae the fire. The head's flimsy on that make.'

‘Aye, just like us,' I thought I heard her say as she wheeled the squeaky pram down the road, but it might have just been one of those hollow-feeling tricks.

*

We took our chances without coats to get the last of the sun, even though the chilly breeze made the hairs of your arms bristle. It was a bit of a walk to the big Asda, through town, towards the train station and the bit of swampy wasteland that got the best of the town's sunsets. As we walked across the old wooden bridge the mirrored walls of the superstore were pink and orange, absorbing the light; it looked like a casino, or a fancy hotel, not the next step up from Lidl's in the cheap-food chain.

I'd promised Ma I'd come to help her back with the bags, but we hardly said a word, just walked side by side enjoying the view, the skin of our arms skimming each other's, our hands bumping.

‘That's a good one.' Ma nodded her head to the bleed of colour dissolving into the plastic-bag and bottle-strewn marshes.

‘Aye, it's pretty.' I walked on, my eyes dead on the horizon, letting the light sink right into my pupils, so when we got inside I almost walked straight into the old bloke with his saucer-sized badge saying ‘Welcome! Ask Me Anything!' Ma steered me towards the cafe as I blinked away the flashes and pops in front of my eyes.

‘Let's have a cuppa and then get the shop in.'

I'd been properly out of bed for weeks now but it still made my teeth hurt a bit, walking through the cafe; my heart beat louder every second beat, and I felt a scorching lick of heat up each of my arms, little twitches in my lips and eyes.

Ma turned round and caught me just standing there in the aisle of the cafe, a pair of grans looking up from their teacakes to give each other a look. She took my arm and sat me at the nearest table, still piled high with dirty plates, a chicken nugget with little teeth marks leaving a greasy smear.

‘Just stay there an' I'll get us some grub in.'

I nodded and kept myself staring at the little crescents in the nugget, imagined the little sweetcorn-sized teeth that had made them, then pushed it with a swipe onto the floor, squashed it down with my trainer and kept my eyes on the table. It helped me to think that no one was looking. I knew they weren't really, not in Asda where there were all sorts. I just needed a minute for my heartbeat to stop shouting, my skin to stop burning.

Ma set the tray down. ‘I thought we could do with a treat. We never do this any more.' The tray had a pot of tea, two shiny-looking scones, little plastic pots of jam and cream. Ma stuck her knife through her scone. ‘Dig in then.'

And so I did. I concentrated on making a scone with the perfect thickness of jam and an even dollop of cream, sandwiched the halves of scone together and filled my gob with it. When I looked up Ma had a dollop of cream down her chin and I knew I had crumbs all down my front, but I did feel better.

‘Gorgeous.' Ma poured our cups of tea, just a bit too dark, a bit tepid, but I gulped mine down.

‘Aye, thanks, Ma, this is lovely.' I waited until Ma was using a licked finger to chase the crumbs of her plate, craning her neck for a nearby ashtray. ‘Ma –' I brushed the crumbs from my front – ‘do I look . . . weird now?'

Ma stopped chasing crumbs and looked up, her shoulders dropping. ‘Weird? No, Janie, don't be daft. Yeh turn heads, yeh must be able tae see that.'

‘Do I seem, yeh know, different, strange?'

Ma pushed aside the tray. ‘Let me just get an ashtray.'

I watched her walk over and get one from the wonky tower of them by the trays, She took a pre-rolled rolly from her tin that had magic mushrooms on the front that I got her on Mother's Day. Lit it up and took a long puff. Her face was hard and I wished I'd never asked.

‘Janie, there's nothing strange about yeh. I know yeh've been feeling . . . upset. Are all the things that yeh were upset about over an' done with now?'

What could I reply? She made it sound like it was a pissed-up row with Beth or a lad breaking up with me. But it wasn't her fault, I didn't want to share it then and I still wouldn't. I shrugged. ‘Aye, I mean, I suppose. I've stuff tae sort out.'

‘Well, yeh seem better and I was thinking . . .' She put down her fag and rummaged in her bag. ‘Look, I was thinking about a course.'

She spread the glossy booklet in front of us; she had pages marked already. ‘I was thinking catering, or maybe some GCSEs just fer a start, like.'

I looked up from the prospectus. She looked chuffed, kept giving the shiny paper little rubs with the tips of her fingers. ‘That's a brilliant idea, Ma, you should maybe do the catering cause then yeh've a job at the end of it an –'

‘This isn't fer me, Janie. It's coming up to starting time but I've had a chat with the college an' they said under special circumstances they can do you a late enrolment.'

I took the book now, filled with shiny-haired, white-toothed, book-carrying students in Gap jumpers. Were they bollocks Great Yarmouth College students. She'd turned down the pages, GSCEs, Performing Arts, Foundation Studies Animal Care.

‘Animal Care, Ma? Listen, I –'

‘Well, it's just a suggestion. The point is this summer's over an' done with. Yer feeling better, yeh said so yerself, and now it's time tae get on with things.' She pushed the book forward a bit so it nudged my chest.

‘No. No way. I've been making plans myself.'

She stubbed out her fag and pulled the book back across the table, smacked the open pages shut. She stared at the table arms folded, like she'd known all along I wasn't going to college but wanted to hear me say no. Give her the upper hand. ‘What's the plan then?'

I was blushing in front of my own ma, but I'd almost been a ma myself and that meant I couldn't be a kid any more, even though she made me feel like one. ‘London maybe. I've saved cash. I thought about looking fer my da maybe or getting a job in one of the hotels. Live-in.'

‘Look fer yer da? Is this because of our rows? Come on, Janie, you know me, it's just the Ryan Temper. Yeh know yer ma loves yeh. You're as bad as me fer it.'

‘It's not the rows or you, Ma. It's this place, you know what it's like. You were my age when you left home.'

‘Aye, an I was a kid. I ended up in a right state.' She'd raised her voice and one of the nans looked over, with an unimpressed set to her false teeth. Who were we to spoil her Monday teacake?

‘Ma?' I reached across and put my hand on the sleeve of her sweatshirt, wormed my fingers into the sleeve like I would have if I was a kid. ‘It'll be different for me.'

‘That's exactly what I said. Now come on, I want tae get home fer
Ready Steady Cook
.' She shook my hand off and walked a few steps ahead, then she stopped and offered her arm and I linked mine through it as we walked to the trolleys.

*

I waited until I'd unpacked everything with Ma before I took my shower. Her head was half in and half out the freezer's mist when she saw me with that morning's still damp towels.

‘Another shower, Janie? We're no made of money, yeh know; it's not just the gas, water costs a bomb an' all.'

‘I've my period.'

I got in and made the water as hot as it would go, so it felt like my skin would come off like scraps of wet tissue. I hadn't lied to Ma, except the lady at the Brook Family Planning Centre said it was called spotting, probably the end of an infection, and that I should have come earlier. She was nice enough, just like the one that had booked the appointment with a not-too-happy not-too-sad smile, but spotting was a cute misleading name for having your period all the time.

My wrists stung a bit in the water, I guessed from holding the frozen bags of veg and chips across them while Ma loaded the freezer, but it was a sweet sort of soreness. I washed my hair twice, left my conditioner in and let the water thump down on my chest, imagining the sounds it made behind my ribs. I soaped my hands and ran them all over my skin, all over my changed body, a body with a little pot belly and shyer shoulders. My constant reminder, as if I needed one.

Ma was on the sofa watching
Holiday
when I came out in my towels. I sat in front of her on the carpet so I could stretch my legs in front of the fire.

‘Look at that, a thousand quid for a week in Argentina learning to tango. I'd love tae do that. She's a great tan.'

‘And boobs.' Ma took the towel off my shoulders and started giving my hair a rough dry, getting her fingers right into the scalp, pulling at the roots a bit. ‘Ma, a bit softer maybe?'

‘Sorry.'

After she'd finished, and I felt like I had whiplash, she went to get the brush. I leaned back against her knees and she spread my hair across her legs and started brushing the ends out, each stroke snagging a tangle. My legs were burning a bit now but I didn't move.

‘Janie, yeh know you going will break my heart.'

‘Ma, I've told yeh –'

She put her hand on my shoulder to stop me from turning round. ‘Shh, Janie, calm down. I'm just telling yeh so yeh'll know I'll miss yeh.' Her knees pushed me forward a bit while she rummaged for something and then there was a roll of paper in front of my face. ‘This is just a wee something.'

I unrolled it, an address for Jennifer Furlong, a twenty, two tenners. ‘Listen, Ma, I've saved tons this summer an' as for finding Da that was just –'

‘It's just an early present, what I was putting by for yer big birthday. An' the address might not even be any good but I thought it might get yeh started. I thought I'd give it to yeh now. In case yeh don't get a chance to say goodbye. Like I said, it'll break my heart but yer a good girl, Janie. You'll do brilliant.'

I scrunched the paper and notes in my fist, let the fire keep burning my legs. Ma took my hair in both hands and put it over my shoulder. I bit the insides of my cheeks, waited for the pain behind my eyes to go and reached up and touched her bony knuckles, just for as long as she'd let me, just for a second. We sat quiet for a while then. Watched some presenter's fat cycling-shorted Lycra arse tour the South of France on a bicycle until Tiny burst in, out of breath, bringing the smell of night-time and sweat with her.

‘Ma, I stepped in dog shite and they were all laughing at me!'

Her chest heaved, nose streamed, her face was bright red: she was ready to blow. We were both glad to get up and deal with Tiny's dog-shite emergency. Ma with a fork kept for the purpose under the kitchen sink, and me with a choc ice and a promise to put the shitters up anyone who made my little sister cry.

*

‘Jack Frost Cider?'

Beth shrugged.

‘It was on special and if you don't like it you buy the booze next time.'